Today I wanted to share another poem. I had wanted to share an excerpt from Samhain Sorcery but I’m not where I wanted to be with it yet. So instead I’m sharing this. I wrote this poem circa 2010. I’ve probably mentioned before now that I am pretty obsessed with Greek Mythology. This poem was written about the Greek idea of the Underworld, and their Lord of the Underworld, Hades. People often confuse Hades with Death. The personification of Death, in Greek Mythology, is another god; Thanatos. Hades instead rules over the Underworld. The Greeks feared him, although I’m not entirely sure why. There are relatively few myths around Hades (compared with the other Gods that is) and apart from cheating on his wife I haven’t really come across any myths where he’s done something that would give you reason to fear him. There’s one myth where a “hero” tries to steal Persephone (against her will) from the Underworld to make her his wife, so Hades exacts retribution, but it still seems completely warranted. Perhaps the fear of Hades is merely a side effect of the ancient Greeks’ fear of death, and what comes after?
By B. Forrester
There stands a mighty citadel,
amongst the little Asphodel.
A grim place to look upon,
a home rarely celebrated in song.
City of the dead and damned,
darkness lives upon this land.
This realm holds more inside than hate,
in the fields great beauty waits.
The husband sitting on the throne,
says this is now eternally your home.
In this palace on the rocks,
there is no need for earthly locks.
Giant roaring, monstrous fiends,
the stuff of nightmares or of dreams.
A place not evil but misunderstood:
there is as much bad as there is good.
There is wealth worth more than jewels,
this land cannot be home to fools.
A sanctuary for the worlds’ outcasts –
the remnants of heroes from the past.
The King is just, and his halls are grand,
his wife serene, she holds his hand.
He may seem cold and uncaring,
you’ll learn your problems need not airing.
Myths: the lies of history’s victors,
spoken cause tremors of the Richter.
They teach you now to fear this place,
lies of fear replacing grace.
But no matter what you believe,
the King still holds an ace up his sleeve.
Your beliefs are irrelevant din,
you will end your days with him.
In his palace, his domain,
the virtuous will feel no pain.
Rivers, lakes and mountain passes,
with luscious fields and flowing grasses,
are hidden behind no pearly door,
in this ancient world of lore.
So spend your days with those you love,
you may only have them while above.